Reborn I Refuse To Save The Traitors (Margaery) novel Chapter 100

**Chapter 100: The True And False Heiress**

Mark felt the weight of the evening’s events pressing down on him like a heavy cloak, one that he knew he must keep tightly wrapped around himself. Secrets were a dangerous game, and the truth about Margaery’s parentage was a card he could never afford to play.

“Of course, of course,” he replied, his smile a practiced mask. Inside, however, he scoffed at the absurdity of it all.

Years prior, he had approached Marcus and the Chancellor’s estate, seeking assistance to secure his son’s admission into the prestigious Royal Medical Hall. It was a move designed to cement a legacy that would span generations, a dream that had been dashed when the Wallen family distanced themselves from the institution, only to send Avery in his stead.

Mark had devoted himself to Alicia’s faction, serving loyally for years, only to find himself cast aside, a scapegoat for their failures.

‘Now they dare to accuse me of betrayal?’ Mark thought bitterly as he followed Joshua up the staircase, his heart a tumult of resentment and indignation.

“Tessa, this is Mr. Whitney,” Joshua announced as they entered the room. “He’s here to draw your blood. Margaery has already given hers. If your blood matches, we’ll use it as a medicinal primer for your stomach ailment.”

As Mark stepped into the room, he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of conflict as he observed Tessa curled up on the chaise lounge, her demeanor fragile yet deceptively composed.

If Margaery was not truly a Wallen, then what did that mean for Tessa, her twin? The implications were staggering, suggesting that all the efforts of the Wallen family over the past dozen years might have been for naught.

Tessa was acutely aware of Mark’s internal struggle. She had orchestrated this moment, having bribed both Mark and Halle, knowing that once Margaery’s blood was tested, the truth would be laid bare.

A sly smile tugged at her lips, though her face remained a picture of gratitude. “Thank you, Joshua, for taking the time to worry about me despite your busy schedule. And thank you, sister, for your willingness to help me in this way. Your kindness is something I can never repay.”

As she spoke, her eyes glistened with unshed tears, a sight that always seemed to tug at Joshua’s heartstrings.

He felt a rush of sympathy, his suspicions momentarily forgotten. “You are a Wallen, Tessa. It’s only right that we care for you,” he reassured her, his voice softening as he recalled the last time she had hugged him, her warmth wrapping around him like a comforting blanket.

But lurking beneath his affection was a troubling thought: if Tessa was not truly a Wallen, he would have no qualms about taking her as his concubine.

Tessa caught the glimmer in Joshua’s eyes, a knowing look that confirmed her previous flirtation had not gone unnoticed.

She bit her lip, casting him a coy glance that was both playful and teasing. “Joshua, you truly treat me the best,” she said, her tone light yet layered with meaning.

Yet the flirtation was tempered, a delicate dance of emotions that could be felt but not fully articulated, especially with the remnants of tears still shimmering in her eyes.

Joshua felt his pulse quicken, his thoughts muddled as he stood there, entranced by her presence.

He watched, almost in a trance, as Mark prepared to draw Tessa’s blood, and in a daze, he found himself taking a cotton ball and pressing it gently against her wound, their skin brushing against one another, igniting a tension that hung in the air like a charged storm cloud. Mark, for his part, remained silent, allowing the moment to unfold.

It was only when Sarah’s voice broke through the haze that Joshua snapped back to reality, reluctantly releasing Tessa’s hand. “Rest well. I will come to see you again tomorrow morning,” he said, his voice tinged with a mix of concern and lingering affection.

“Take care, Joshua,” Tessa replied, rising to see him off, her expression a careful blend of warmth and mischief.

As Joshua turned to leave Sunbeam Court, he glanced back one last time, the sight of her lingering in his mind like a sweet melody.

Once he was outside, Tessa rolled her eyes, muttering under her breath, “Men really are all the same. One little tease and they lose all sense of reason!”

Oblivious to her commentary, Joshua walked through the chilly night air, his cheeks still flushed with embarrassment. It wasn’t until he reached the entrance of Raul’s study that he began to regain his composure.

“Go, fetch her immediately. Father wishes to question her.” Joshua stood in the front courtyard, the night deepening around him, his thoughts swirling like the dark clouds above.

A moment later, the guard returned, shoving a woman of about fifty into Raul’s study. “Get in!” he ordered, bowing slightly to Raul.

The midwife stumbled forward, falling to the ground like a dog begging for scraps. Raul’s fury ignited as he seized her by the collar, demanding, “Sixteen years ago, you claimed my wife gave birth prematurely, that one child died and only Margaery survived.

“A year ago, you said the child hadn’t died at all, that you desired a daughter but couldn’t have one, so you stole Tessa. But now, Margaery’s blood cannot merge with mine. Explain yourself!”

With a furious shove, he tossed her aside, sending her crashing into the wall.

The midwife cried out in pain, scrambling to her feet, tears streaming down her face as she pleaded, “Forgive me, Lord Chancellor! I lied, I wronged you. Please, let me explain, just spare my daughter!”

Raul’s expression shifted, confusion mingling with anger. “What did you say?” he asked, taken aback.

He had expected her to account for the daughter of the Chancellor’s estate, yet she was speaking of her own child.

A flicker of suspicion ignited in Raul’s mind, and he furrowed his brows tightly.

The midwife, her face a mask of sorrow, confirmed his fears, stammering, “What I said before was true. The lady did give birth to twins, and one had indeed died. The child who truly survived was Tessa.”

Then, her demeanor shifted, a timid expression washing over her as she continued, “And Margaery… she is my daughter.”